The Bromosexual Adventures of Alfred and Yong Soo
by Lethargic Pineapple
Summary: The trifling tale of two teens' troubles with tricks, talking, traveling, and togas. Kimchiburger.
1. Testicles

The night was soggy and humid as a Yong Soo the cheerful Korean delinquent traced the damp sidewalks lazily, looking up toward the sky, stars few and far-between behind the clouds. He turned onto the front walkway of that familiar old house. He hopped up the two-and-a-half steps, and rang the doorbell that sat next to the white, wooden, quite frankly uninteresting door. He heard the melodic _diiing, dooong _coming from inside, an a few loud barks from a dog. Just before the door opened, he heard someone yell _"Quiet, Freedom!" _

A boy who looked a lot like Alfred opened the door, and for a second, Yong Soo thought that the person was Alfred. But then the naïve American in question popped up behind the look-alike, and bounded forward to give the Korean a tight squeeze. Alfred then led Yong Soo through the door, through the living room, then up the stairs. Yong Soo tried to catch a glimpse of the doppelganger who had answered the door, but it seemed that he had disappeared already. _Freaky, _thought the Asian, who didn't remember Alfred saying anything about having a brother. He had never seen him the many times before when he had visited. Yong Soo knew he had a dog, Golden Retriever named Freedom, who was trailing the two friends up the stairs and down the upstairs hallway into Alfred's room.

Alfred's room was a small room with a slanted ceiling. It was painted a light pink, though, luckily, you couldn't tell because all of his posters; posters that described everywhere from cars to bands to superheroes. He had a Toy Story bedspread, but Spiderman curtains. The room was dark, since the light bulb hadn't worked since 2005. Yong Soo thought that Alfred was a four-year-old in a fifteen-year-old's body. They lay down on the bed, gazing up at the pictures on the ceiling. One of a red Camaro (Alfred really liked Camaros, he always said that he would get one when he turned sixteen.), and another of Jersey Shore. Yong Soo did not like that show, though he saw it from time to time when Alfred wanted to watch it. It was the same way for Alfred, who didn't like his friend's Korean dramas (Or so Alfred wanted him to believe.).

The American turned over on his side to poke his friend. "Ready, dude?" he asked.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" the Korean questioned, obviously skeptical of Alfred's "ritual."

The two teenage boys had decided that they needed a special bond to separate them from others. They agreed that even though it was sort of stupid, they needed to make themselves closer than a husband and wife, but not in a homosexual way. This was because the two had decided to become master pranksters. They needed to be in it all the way, and in it together. They would even run away if they absolutely had to.

Alfred sighed, getting up from the bed and starting to pull off his shirt. "Even if it doesn't, we can still say it did."

The ritual wanted them to be butt-naked. Yong Soo slipped off his shirt and began unbuttoning his pants. "True, true."

Once they were clad in their birthday suits, they stood facing each other, each putting their middle finger on the other's left testicle.

"I, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, do so solemnly swear that by the power of this sacred ball, my soul, mind and body will always be connected to Yong Soo Im, from this day, rainy June 18, 2005, for the rest of my life and beyond."

"I, Yong Soo Im, do so solemnly swear that by the power of this sacred ball, my soul, mind and body will always be connected to Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, from this day, rainy June 18, 2005, for the rest of my life and beyond."

They removed their fingers from their life partners' balls, and began to redress in the clothes scattered across Alfred's already-cluttered floor.

A minute later, a soft knock came on the door.

"What is it, Mattie?" Alfred said, recognizing his brother by the three taps that made up his knock.

The door opened, and the boy who looked like Alfred was there. Yong Soo ran over to him. "Who are you!" he asked excitedly, staring into the lookalike's violet eyes.

"I- I'm Alfred's brother, Matthew," he stammered. Yong Soo burst out laughing as he heard the boy's voice, which was so high-pitched it sounded like it was going through puberty.

"You two look a lot like each other," the Korean added.

"Duhhh, 'cause we're twins," stated Alfred, turning over toward his brother, "So, what?"

"Mom wants to know if you want dinner."

"No, Yong and I are busy."

The milder twin scoffed. "With what, making out?"

"Shut up." Alfred turned slightly red.

"Right. I'll just, uh, leave you two boys alone then." Matthew and his smug face slowly pulled the door shut. The two boys stood silently in the darkness for a couple seconds, avoiding each other's direct gaze.

"Sorry, dude, Mattie's kind of a douche sometimes, just ignore hi-" Alfred was shut up with a pair of powerful Asian lips on his own. A few seconds later, Yong Soo pulled away, staring at his stunned friend.

After a minute of dead silence, Alfred finally sputtered out some words.

"Dude, I told you this wasn't a homosexual thing."

"Who said we couldn't be homosexual anyways."

"I did not know you wanted to be homosexual."

"We're kind of already bromosexual."

"Bromosexual isn't even a word."

"Since when do you care when something isn't a word."

"Touché."

Alfred punched his friend in the arm lightly, smiling a 10,000-watt smile. Yong Soo countered with his signature 10,001-watt Cheshire grin. This time, it was the American who clumsily pushed his lips onto the Korean's. They fell backward onto the Woody and Buzz sheets, chuckling into each other's breath.

Later, the two exhausted teens lay in juxtaposition on the tacky green carpet. Alfred tried to read the small lyrics in the background of a random band poster, while Yong Soo flipped casually through a porn magazine. "Boobs…" he muttered.

"So, Yong," began Alfred, turning over to face his bromosexual bro, "Shall we begin planning out next prank?"

"It should be the prank to end all pranks," said the scheming Asian.

They both sat up, bumping fists before starting to whisper their grand ideas.

**Well, that takes care of chapter one! I hope you liked it. As I write this I am like 75% done with Ch. 4, and the story really hasn't gotten down on Friday yet. But stuff happens. Plot happens. Trust me. Yet it seems to still maintain its general Fluffy Humorness. Also, future side pairings will be Norway-Taiwan (IDK either), FrUK, maybe Prussia/Poland. Oh and Denmark and someone. I don't know yet. I just want Denmark to be involved in some way. I do not have anything but a very rough outline planned out, so I don't know anything about the story. I like reviews. I really do. They give me that feeling in the pit of my stomach that is a lot like the one I get when I read porn. OH I BET YOU TOTALLY DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW THAT TOO BAD.**


	2. Togas

The following morning, before the sun even rose, the two boys awoke silently, creeping out from under Alfred's Pixar-copyrighted sheets. They then slipped out the door without a sound.

There were no longer clouds in the sky, but it certainly smelled like it had rained the night before. Alfred sat on his bike's seat and motioned for Yong Soo to sit on the handlebars.

"No."

"Why?"

"I might fall off."

"You sound like your brother."

"Which one?"

"The girly one."

"Which girly one?"

"Touché."

The Korean reluctantly got on the handles anyway. The American pushed forward slowly, trying to keep the bike steady as it wobbled along the sidewalk. The bike began to gain speed and balance, and Yong Soo relaxed from his tense position.

Then he realized something. "Uh, Al, can you see?"

"Not a fucking thing."

Yong Soo yelled at Alfred to stop, but it was too late. The bike had started descending a hill, at the bottom of which was the convenience store where the two were headed. Just as they began to ride into the parking lot of the gas station, Alfred slammed the breaks, sending them both flying straight into the store's manager, who was just opening up the building.

The three toppled to the ground in a collection of thuds, thankfully missing the cage full of propane tanks. Without hesitation, the manager shoved the teenagers off of him, and went to open the door.

Alfred looked up, dusting off his pants. "Sorry, Mr. Eriksson!"

"Whatever," Replied the Norwegian. Bjorn Eriksson was a stoic man in his early twenties and seemingly the only person who worked at the convenience store. He always had a serious look on his face, though he was never very serious about anything.

Alfred and Yong Soo followed Bjorn into the store. While the Norwegian shuffled to his spot behind the counter, the dynamic duo browsed the miniature aisles in pursuit of tchotchkes and supplies. They ended up bringing rope, gloves, peanut butter, a lighter, and several bottles of Diet Mountain Dew (Alfred's mother didn't let him have regular) to the counter, where Bjorn checked them out without questioning the oddity of the array.

As Yong Soo Im forked over a wad of Washingtons, Bjorn actually spoke a full sentence.

"Y'know, Im, your sister is pretty cute."

"Which sister?" asked the Korean in bout a déjà vu.

"The one who actually leaves her room."

Then, Alfred spoke up. "But, dude, Mei's thirteen and you're twenty-two. That's just not kosher. _Dude."_

Bjorn shoved over the bag of miscellanea, retorting, "What isn't kosher is you getting beat up by Im's cousin from Vietnam who has more balls than you, Jones."

"Th- that was just a fluke! I was eight and had a broken arm!"

"To be fair, you were kind of asking for it with the whole 'hey babe you got some nice tits' thing, Alfie," Yong Soo added.

Alfred and Yong Soo walked out of the store, Alfred walking the bike by the handlebars for long trek up the hell hill that they had just sped down minutes before.

"Hey, Alfredo sauce, about last night…" Yong Soo's voice trailed off. His face was highlighted by the violet-pink sun creeping over the horizon. His almond-shaped eyes were home to shiny, dark circles that seemed to glitter when Yong Soo was making mischief. His wide smile could power New York City. And since Alfred had seen his friend naked several times, he knew how amazing Yong Soo's body was, and that his penis was _almost _as big as Alfred's. Almost.

"Yeah, Yong-Ding-Dong?"

And in that moment, with the sun peeking over the houses and trees, making Yong Soo basically _glow_, Alfred decided he was in like (like, like-like) with his best friend.

"Well, Alfalfa…"

"Yeah, Yong Soo'p Kitchen?"

"Uh… So, Al-ice in Wonderland."

It had been moments earlier, earlier than Alfred's moment of fate, that Yong Soo had a similar moment, a moment of fate, a moment when he fell in love. He figured it was because Alfred had made that pouty face at Bjorn, and Yong realized that he wanted that face all for himself. He wanted to see what made Alfred tick, and what made him tock.

After they had finally ascended the hill in a cloud of awkward silence, Alfred dropped his bike on the sidewalk and fell face-first into the grass. The owner of the lawn was none other than the eccentric Greek man with about a gazillion cats, Mr. Karpusi. The lazy felinophilic was notorious for being in a constant feud with his neighbor, Mr. Adnan. Alfred found that funny, because in real life, Greece and Turkey (where Mr. Adnan was from) did not get along, and it seemed that neither did their citizens. Actually, he wasn't even sure if either man was a citizen of his own country.

As if on cue, the Greek man opened the door and walked out of his house to see the sunrise, with about five cats following him. He took notice of the two boys at the edge of his yard, and lazily walked over to greet them. Yong Soo wondered how laid back one would have to be to casually greet two people he hardly knew except for their delinquent record who were laying on his lawn taking turns scooping peanut butter out of a jar with their fingers, all before the sun rose.

"Alfred, Yong Soo… Morning," he greeted lazily. The boys looked up, frightened for only a second before they realized that nothing bad would come of them, except maybe having cat hair all over their clothes. Since this is fiction, and it can be as convenient (or not) as possible, a calico with calm yellow eyes crawled up onto Alfred's chest, begging silently to be petted with her needy-looking (and admittedly adorable) face. Alfred indulged her, making sure to get under the neck; he heard that cats loved that.

"Uh, how are you, Mr. Karpusi?" asked Yong Soo, scooping up another glob of peanut butter.

The Mediterranean man grunted softly as he sat down next to the teens. "I'm… fine." He petted the Siamese that has crawled into his lap as soon as he sat down. "Hey, did you know… I ran the torch for the Olympics when it was last in Athens?"

The two boys' ears perked up.

"Wow really?

"Cool!"

"Yeah… I wore… a toga."

"OH MY GOD A TOGA!" yelled Alfred, overly-excited, enthused, amazed and awestruck at the very thought of a toga. Yong Soo made a face that looked as if he had just been given a million dollars.

"Mmhmm… Still have it, too."

Alfred was excited in more adjectives than this story's author can think of at the moment since she's sitting with her demented great-grandma in the living room watching _Chowder._ "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD CAN I SEE THE TOGA PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OHMYGOD! "

"Sure, come with me…" Mr. Karpusi got up with another grunt. (How old was this guy anyways? He only looked about thirty but acted as if his body was sixty.) Alfred and Yong Soo followed ecstatically.

Reaching the musty, cramped attic, the Olympian opened up a large, fancy trunk. He pulled out the rather scanty garment, inspecting it quickly before the teens at the opposite end (read: a meter away) of the attic scrambled over to see it.

"You know…" began Heracles Karpusi, tired and cat-iful as usual, "I think Alfred is just about the size to fit into this."

The American's eyes lit up in a sparkle that could rival Edward Cullen's. "C- Could I? REALLY!"

This was exactly how Alfred found himself nearly naked in his kooky neighbor's living room. Mr. Karpusi's eyes had been slightly off—the light fabric clung tightly to his skin, accentuating and revealing every curve and crevice on his body. One was easily able to see his long, defined legs with the hemline merely inches from his crotch. Yong Soo had snickered when he found out that his friend was wearing briefs; some less-than-kosher thoughts invaded his mind.

While the Greek had gone into the kitchen to fix coffee, the boys were left alone in the dimly-lit living room. Alfred had one foot propped up on the coffee table, trying to pose and make his "muscles" look bigger. Yong Soo took notice of the small patch of underpants he could see from his position on the sofa. The Korean piped up in a sing song voice.

"I see London, I see France, I see Allllfreeeeed's UNDERPANTS!" He lunged forward, tackling his toga-clad friend and knocking him over onto the wood floor. Yong Soo lay on top of Alfred for a while, playing nonchalantly with the cowlick that protruded from Alfred's towheaded locks.

"Hey Alfoof."

"Yeah Yongeroo?"

"You're kinda sexy in that toga in a totally non-homosexual way."

"So it's bromosexual instead, right?"

The Korean answered by shifting upwards, moving his head from its perch on Alfred's chest to where it hovered above his face; Yong Soo placed his lips softly onto Alfred's, whose rebuttal was a fierce kiss back.

**And again, another chapter finished! The next chapter is what I think the actual drama-angst plot shit happens in. I think. I don't really remember. Oh guys, if you're ever wondering why my tone kind of flops around, and I do things in some chapters that should appear in other ones but don't, I am blaming it on my ADHD. As I write this author's note, it has been really bad lately so. If the story is weird and inconsistent I apologize. **


	3. Pivot

June passed quickly with little other event. Alfred and Yong Soo hung out often, at which point the Korean would beat the pants off of the American at video games, but the American would almost always beat the Korean in roughhousing.

"Since when did you get so strong?" Yong Soo asked, strained, in a headlock.

"Since… puberty?"

"Well, aren't you kinky?" Yong Soo smirked devilishly.

"You wish!"

Alfred smothered Yong Soo's face into the beige-ish shag carpet of the Im house.

"_Geseki!" _

Of course, the Korean was eating beige fiber, so it sounded more like 'hhmmghhghm.'

The scorching beginning of July happened, along with Alfred's birthday, on the patriotic Fourth. The hot morning of the American's sixteenth, the dynamic duo of dynamite stood staring at the lump of rust Alfred decided to call Liberty.

Yong Soo was confused. "The hell is this?"

"A Camaro, dumbass."

"Sure it is."

Alfred sighed hastily. "Yeah, she's a fixer-upper, but once I do that, she'll be good as new!"

"Not gonna help."

"Coomeee oooooooon! Won't you help out a friend?"

"Friend?"

"Oops. _Best _friend. Bee-Eff-Eff."

"What?" asked the Korean loudly, surprise in his dark brown eyes.

Alfred was confused. "Huh?"

Yong Soo breathed frustratedly. "What do I mean to you? We constantly flirt! We kissed! Twice! But you still have the nerve to call me a friend? WHAT KIND OF A LAME-ASS BOYFRIEND ARE YOU?" His voice wasn't angry, but more spiteful.

"B-boyfriend? Yong, I, uh, I didn't know you felt that way about me. I'm sorry, I-"

He ran off before Alfred could say another word. "_Neoruel Miweoha!"_

Alfred stormed back into his own house and up the stairs, ignoring his bewildered mother as she asked, "Do you like the car?"

_How could I be so stupid? _He thought to himself, plopping down onto his bed. _We even kissed. Twice! I still didn't know how he felt about me. I know Matt's always telling me how I need to learn how to pick up on others' emotions, but I always thought he was just being an ass. I'm terrible. How could I do that to him? And it won't matter to me whether we're friends or boyfriends; I couldn't care more about anyone but Yong Soo._

Alfred was so caught up in his inner monologue of girly emotions that he didn't even notice the tears bunching up in his eyes.

After that day, Alfred put all his energy into fixing up Liberty. And he had a lot of energy. First, there were problems with the engine that took a little bit of assistance from his dad. The rest was all body work. He sanded and scrubbed and sprayed until it fully returned to its former glory. It had taken two weeks, but he was certainly glad that it was done and sparkly.

After he had finally finished his work, Alfred laid limbs askew in the middle of the living room. His older-by-thirty-minutes brother shuffled in and kicked Alfred's side

"Stupid Alfred," Matthew deadpanned, "Stupid, naïve, can't-read-the-air Alfred."

The younger scoffed. "You're just jealous because I got a car and you only got a toy ice cream maker."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"Okay you win."

"So," began the elder twin, "you really think your 'sweet ride' is going to get you the girl? Boy. Sorry."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Good luck."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"You bet it was, bro."

"You know, bro," Alfred rolled over onto his back, "You are uncharacteristically asshole-ish today."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"You bet it was, bro."

The Im-Wang house was a few blocks north of the Jones house, and a few blocks larger as well. Apparently, Yong Soo's mom or step-dad or grandmotheror whoever owned a construction company and was therefore really rich. The house did have to be kind of big, to hold all five children, both parents, ¾ of the parent's parents, and a cousin from somewhere in Asia who was studying in America.

Yes, it was never boring there. It wasn't ever quiet, either. And there was very little English-speaking, since half of the family spoke Korean, the other half Chinese, and the cousin Japanese. Alfred snickered, remembering the cousin's English.

He pulled up to the large house, contemplated honking, but decided that the place had as much noise as it was, also that honking was generally not very respectful, and more than a few visits to the Im-Wang place had let Alfred learn his lesson about disrespect.

He parked on the street, rolled up the manual window, hopped out of the car and stepped nervously up to the front door. _Ding-dong-ding-dong, ding-dong-ding-dong, _rang the fancy door bell. Yong Soo's younger step-brother opened the door with a fire cracker in one hand and a cantaloupe in the other.

"Well, well," greeted the Chinese teenager, "If it isn't Alfred Jones, the ignorant thap who made my thtep-brother cry."

Alfred always had to resist bursting out laughing because of that lisp.

"So, uh, Hong," he began, "I need to see your cousin. Kiku."

"Why do you want to thee him and not Yong Soo?"

"I need to ask him for advice _about_ Yong Soo."

"Alfred Jones, you are thtupider than I thought."

A light bulb lit up above the American's head. "No, wait, I need to see Yao."

Hong Wang raised a thick eyebrow. "He told me you were weird, but I had no idea you were thith retarded."

"That's offensive."

"You mad?"

Alfred made a face that could only be properly described as "Kannada letter Ttha, underscore, Thha (ಠ_ಠ)," but followed Hong into the house despite the Chinese's similarities to a certain girly-haired twin. Alfred took his shoes off, because that's just what you do when you enter the Im-Wang household.

The snobby 9th grader had left Alfred in Yao's room, the feminine Asian turning around in his desk chair.

"Alfred! Ni hao ma?" He asked, happy to see the American.

"Uh… Wo hao. Ni ma?"

"Da hao, xiexie. What do you need, Al?"

During their conversation in simple (and most likely botched by Alfred) Mandarin, the two had seated themselves on Yao's bed, facing one another.

"I'm having relationship troubles." Alfred sighed deeply.

"I know. I heard your boyfriend crying with no stopping all week!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Alfred took a deep breath, "Well, I didn't know that he thought of us as that, was all."

"So you're saying that you like _Didi _to the point where you would not mind if he was your boyfriend and you were his?"

"Man, I think I like him enough to _marry _him! It just… surprised me."

The college freshman paused, closed his eyes, and breathed for a few seconds.

"Now go say all that to him."

"Huh?"

"You heard me. Zaijian, Ai de Shagua." Yao Wang shooed the bewildered American out the door.

Alfred stood as still as a statue in the upstairs hallways of the Im-Wang residence. His breaths were shallow, his face pale and clammy. Yong Soo's door was just across from Yao's. He took a deep breath, follow by another, and then another. He knew exactly what he was going to say to his love: a calm, rational explanation of what happened, and why Alfred and Yong Soo should continue their companionship of awesomeness, but as boyfriends. There was absolutely nothing that could go wrong.

He reached for the doorknob with shivering hands, eyes wide like a deer-with-contacts-in-headlights-under-a-magnifying glass.

The door swung open with a gust of air, revealing a Korean in pajamas, poking away at the buttons on his DS.

"Alfre-"

"IM YONG SOO, WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

Not as planned.

**Chapter six is 2% finished. I have two weeks of school left yay! **_**Neoreul Miweoha,**__**I**_** am pretty sure means **_**I hate you, **_**and **_**Ai de Shagua**_** means **_**love's fool. **_**(Or at least I hope it does!) Not much else to say. Oh and Hong Wang and Mei Wang are HK and Taiwan, respectively. Just saying. North Korea is represented in this fic, but she is only mentioned indirectly (in one of Norway's lines last chapter "The [sister] that actually leaves her room", and the Im-Wang family having 5 kids). For the record, it goes Yao Wang, (Kiku Honda), Yong Hyeo Im, Yong Soo Im, Hong Wang, Mei Wang.**


	4. Plot and Not

The two boys stood in silence exactly where the cliffhanger had left them. Yong Soo's almond eyes were wide and his heart was pounding like a bass drum. Alfred's request was so loud that they now had an audience of three Ims, five Wangs and a Honda. Yong Soo got up and shuffled to the door.

Mi-hyeo Im, the matriarch of the house (Yong Soo's grandmother, the rich one), stepped forward. "_Igeos sonyeon-i YongSoo-reul gyeolhonhae shippeo?" _She gestured toward Alfred with a bony finger.

"_Yae_," answered Yong Soo, nodding from his spot at the doorway.

"What you GPA, Alfred Jones?" Mi-hyeo Im asked in her thick accent.

"Three-point-seven."

"What you future plan?"

"Uh, astronomy. B- _Byeol… hago… haengsong-eui…gongbu, _right?"

Yong Soo nodded silently.

"You make grandchild for me of daughter?"

"Uh well, um. _Nae._"

Yong Soo's grandma turned around, and said something in Korean that Alfred couldn't understand. (He had asked Yong Soo about a couple of phrases before, but he really couldn't say anything.) Yong Soo's face fell at his grandmother's words, whatever they were. The relatives dispersed.

Yong Soo, near tears, came up to Alfred. "I- I'm sorry," he whimpered, "Grandma says that you aren't allowed here anymore. I'm sorry. I really do love you, Alfred."

The American couldn't believe his ears. He pulled Yong Soo into a tight hug, kissing his face all over before they let go several minutes later.

He slowly made his way out the door, got in the car, started it, and drove off with the most melancholy background music playing in his head-movie.

Later that week, on the sunny Friday of July 15, 2005, a still heartbroken Alfred was shoved into the family minivan by his parents and brother. They drove out to the neighboring suburb where Alfred's mass of cousins lived. The Kirkland family had _six_ kids, one of whom was adopted from Africa. _If she's from Africa, _thought Alfred, _then why is she white?_

"I know what you're thinking, Bro," said Matt, gaze not moving from his PSP. "You can't just ask people why they're white."

After reaching the Kirkland house, where the Joneses would be for the weekend, Alfred was told he would be staying in Rowan's room, who was a year his junior.

"Where should I put my bag?" asked Alfred

"Oh, anywhere," replied the androgynous teen.

"O… kay?"

After placing his bag "oh anywhere"—wherever that was—Alfred intruded upon the room of his college-age cousin Arthur.

And promptly ran back out, screaming like a little girl.

"ALFRED, YOU GIT! You do not just come into other people's rooms when they are engaging in… 'mature activity,'" Arthur said, poking his head out of his door, showing a bit of his naked torso.

"Unless you want to join us?" Arthur's French frenemy (with benefits) popped up behind him.

Later, with the fuck-buddies fully clothed, Alfred and the pair sat on the floor of Arthur's room.

Alfred sniffed randomly. "It smells like sex in here…" He pondered this. "Sex sure smells a lot like escargot chanson fromage amour baguette."

"So what is it you want to ask me, Alfred?" began Arthur, ignoring his nonconforming cousin.

"I'm… having romance problems."

"Well I certainly the person to ask," scoffed the Angle. He pointed to Francis, "Ask the Ambassador of _L'Amour _over here."

Francis Bonnefoy was really, really French. He even laughed like a Frenchman. "Ohonhonhonhon."

"Well, _mon Amerique,_ tell me your predicament."

"Okay so there's this guy and I thought we were best friends and shit and we even performed a ritual of brotherhood saying basically that we would be totally bros forever but we ended up kissing and then we went to this Greek dude's house and I wore a toga and we kissed again and then I got a car and he was all like 'you're my boyfriend not my friend' and I'm all 'well I'll just fix up Liberty (that's the car's name) then' and I fixed up Liberty and drove her to his house and accidentally asked him to marry me and his family is all traditional and shit so they banished me from Verona or some shit and now I don't know what to do HELP ME."

Francis and Arthur sat there, blank faces and tight lips.

"Sounds like quite a problem," commented the Frenchman.

"You understood that?" Arthur retorted

"_Oui_. Now Alfred, lend me your ear…."

Even later, Alfred and some of his younger, not sexually active cousins were in the backyard jumping on one of those big trampolines. Since this was the suburbs, people just kind of had stuff like that.

Alfred mused on his family. Jett was Alfred's age had a bandage on his face that served no purpose. Piper was eleven and covered in paint. Peter a year older than her, and wore a ridiculous (but admittedly kind of cool) sailor's outfit. Sadie was the same age as Rowan, and white but from Africa which made no sense to Alfred (she also smelled of Tuna and had quite the attitude). And did Rowan have a vagina or a penis?

Holidays are never boring.

"PETER YOU ARSE GIVE ME BACK MY TEN MILLIMETER FILBERT RIGHT NOW!" yelled Piper, chasing the sailor-suited boy all over the backyard.

Alfred, Jett, and Rowan bounced around on the blue trimmed entertainment apparatus.

Rowan spoke up. "So," bounce. "Alfred," bounce. "I hear," bounce. "You're having," bounce. "Guy," flip(!). "Troubles," bounce.

"How," bounce. "Did you know about those?" bounce. Alfred was still in shock about how flexible his cousin was. _A freakin' flip!_

Rowan stopped bouncing, and stared past Alfred with a serious look on his face. "Nothing is sacred in this household."

A second later, his face transformed into a grin, and he went back to jumping.

Jett spoke up with that constant shit-eating grin of his. "Ya boy won't let ya touch 'is tits?"

Rowan hopped over to his brother and slapped him upside the head.

"Don't listen to Jett because Jett doesn't listen to anyone. Fair trade."

Alfred was kind of starting to like Rowan. Even if he had no idea whether his cousin had boobs or not.

Rowan spoke again, "We're reading Romeo and Juliet in class. I was think to myself that maybe, maybe, wouldn't it be easier if Juliet just went with Romeo to Mantua? Or maybe if, they like, went to Denmark or something, and met Hamlet…"

Alfred just stopped bouncing. _Every Kirkland has gone coconuts, _he thought as he stepped off of the trampoline.

He went inside, and was immediately shoved over to help Sadie with the dishes.

He scrubbed. She dried. "UUhhh, um. Uh. Bonjour?"

"I speak English, you ass."

"Okay good. Because. I don't speak French."

He tried to make the situation less awkward.

"So… Where are you from?"

"Seychelles."

"Wh-"

"Before you ask where that is, it's a collection of islands above Madagascar, and people of a lot of different races live there. That—that is why I'm brownish-tanish." She huffed. The dish in her hand was really dry from her anger-applied wiping.

Alfred wondered how she could answer all the questions he had in his head. Was she a mind reader?

"You must get asked that question a lot."

"Yeah. It gets to you."

Alfred nodded, turning back to the pot in his hand.

She started up again a minute later. "It _was _Arthur's turn to do the dishes, but he was _entertaining _a _guest _so the duty was shoved over a day AND I WAS GOING TO WORK ON MY EXTRA-CREDIT BIOLOGY PROJECT BUT _NOOOO _I HAVE TO WASH THE DISHES!"

"I could uh, take over for you if you want?"

"Really?"

"Sure, it's no problem."

"THANK YOU, YOU'RE THE BEST COUSIN EVER! Oh and here's some advice for you and your lover," she got on her tip-toes and whispered the weirdest solution ever that would never work into his ear.

The rest of the weekend went off like a normal visit to the Kirkland house, which, if you compare it to a visit to some other house, isn't really that normal. Peter managed to set the garden on fire; Arthur lost it because it was basically _his _garden. Francis was forced to sleep in Rowan's room with Alfred, and Alfred thought he felt something on his butt in the middle of the night. (By the way, Rowan had the most gender-neutral sleepwear in the world.) Saturday, the gang went to the zoo that was conveniently closer to the Kirkland's neighborhood than the Jones'. There, Piper almost got eaten by an Alpaca, Jett fed a crocodile some cotton candy, and Francis got shoved into the monkeys' area because of this and that and groping Arthur's butt. Within an hour and a half the group got kicked out of the zoo. Again.

Sunday was slightly calmer. (If you, the readers, haven't caught on by now that Francis lives with the Kirklands, I am telling you now.) Alfred accidentally walked in on a naked Frenchman, who screamed like a little girl and threw his toothbrush at Alfred. The toothbrush hit glasses-absent Alfred in the eye. After returning from the doctor, who said it was not a big thing just take some painkillers and get the fuck out of here, Alfred laid down on the couch and texted Kiku, who he had befriended over his many visits to the Im-Wang household.

hey dude do u no how ys is doin

hes doing ok but thers ben lot of crying n shouting

ouch

yes he sed that ur the onry 1 4 him

don't u mean only

sorry i mean that yes

my cuzins gave me all these crzy ideas that wuldnt work

how do u no they don't work?

…

kiku honda u r the giver of all brite litebulbs

arigato

wat

Alfred looked up at the ceiling, pondering those crazy ideas that would never work and the possible foreshadowing done by his androgynous cousin. He also pondered talking to skulls and cross-dressing.

**Chapter 6 30% done. I am too lazy to tell you what the Korean means but I mean it's not really that important. If you're really curious just Google it or something. SO, WHO ELSE ISN'T STUDYING FOR FINALS? I am not a good student. Yep okay bye.**


	5. Shakespeare and Bombing the Fourth Wall

Alfred was a big fan of things that happen in the middle of the night. He basked in the glory of his Shakespearean dress, his plastic skull, a bucket of small pebbles, a Michael Bublé CD, and Liberty. All of the former were in the back seat of the latter. Except the first, which he was wearing.

"It's go time." He told himself. Alfred had an over-serious expression and drove off as quietly as possible.

He stopped in front of the one place at which he knew he had to be one last time. The blond took out the bucket of pebbles and crept over to a spot below a window. He threw one, and then another.

The window opened as he threw the third. Yong Soo Im got hit in the face with a pebble.

"Alfred?" The Korean whisper-shouted.

"Alas poor Yong Soo!" Alfred also whisper-shouted, "come with me!"

The Korean paused.

"Alfred you are fucking brilliant. Catch me."

Without much warning, he jumped. Alfred put his hands out and flinched. With a collective "OOF" they both toppled to the ground.

"Quick!" More whisper shouting from Yong Soo, "I don't want my parents to wake up and catch me!"

"Why are you coming with me so readily?" asked Alfred.

"The author thought it would be weird if I refused."

The two hopped in car, and sped off as quietly as possible (which was actually rather loud). They made a stop at the convenience store, which was somehow still open at two in the morning.

As they walked in, Alfred had to ask, "What were you doing up at two a.m.?"

"StarCraft."

"That makes so much sense."

Bjorn was asleep at the counter. The boys scattered about the tiny aisles, grabbing chips and fruit bars and even more peanut butter, and all that good shit. Alfred tapped on the sleepy Norwegian's shoulder; he awoke startled, shouting, "_Faen!" _

Bjorn stared lazily at the teens. "Well, well, if it isn't the talk of the town, the homosexual Rom and Jul. That's not very kosher; I might need to say something to Grandma Im…"

"I'll let you date my sister." Yong Soo bargained as he set the spam and dim sum up on the counter.

"Deal. That'll be eighteen-forty-two."

"Thanks for not being a squealing bastard, Mr. Eriksson." Alfred's grin ate so much shit at that moment.

They walked out, put the stuff that will most likely never be of use other than to be eaten and therefore give continuous but probably not very healthy support for their adolescent lives in the backseat, and drove off nondescriptly into the night.

_Super Korean Brain Journal 7-18-2005_

_HOLY SHIT BALLS ON TOAST. Just ;dsjfa;lkfdshflkahjaufdiowuqrladsgkl. I am so on edge right now. My adrenaline is pumping and it is making me really anxious right now and my testosterone is pumping and it's making me a sweaty teenage sex god right now. I am doing everything right now. I live in the moment right now. My parents are probably awake and pissed off right now. Alfred is driving and he's sexy as hell right now. I did not just have really gay thoughts right now. I should stop saying that right now. _

_I am kind of horny and this plan is so brilliant though why the fuck is he wearing a dress. And it doesn't even flatter his figure! It's some frumpy old Shakey-spearey ditty and it just accentuates all the wrong places UGH. I think I could kiss him right now, but that would probably obstruct his view and damage his driving. _

_You know, giving him oral wouldn't obstruct his view, but you need to think to drive and Mei says that all men think with their penises and sucking him off would require his penis which would obstruct his thinking, and that would be almost as bad as texting while driving._

_Wait a sec, why do I know about gay sex anyways? I am a virgin and also pretty sure I am straight, although if I am I probably wouldn't be having thoughts about giving another man a blowjob and I just noticed that there are a lot of synonyms for giving someone head. _

_Oh yeah, gay sex originated in Korea so of course I know, DUH._

Before the Korean himself knew it, he was asleep in the passenger seat of a noisy Camaro, being driven out of the city by a sleepy America. Yong Soo didn't ask what he had wanted to really ask, which was, of course, "_Where the fuck are we going?" _Though, wherever Alfred was taking him, he wouldn't really mind as long as they were together.

(The two boys had been inseparable since that fateful day in the First Grade. Yong Soo's favorite color at the time had been green, and he had used his green crayons so often that they were nothing by Thanksgiving Break. One cold December day, his toothless, spectacled classmate Alfred had offered him that one darker green crayon to color his dragon. (We're talking Crayola here people. Crayola Roseart. Everyone knows that.) Yong Soo had asked why Alfred did such a cool nice thing, and the blond had replied, "Because dragons look best green!")

It was odd for people to smile in their sleep, but Yong Soo must have been dreaming of the everlasting friendship that had begun from the agreement that dragons look better green.

The night was dark and muggy. The Camaro drove along the nearly deserted highway with ease, the only traffic being a sixteen-wheeler going the opposite way that passed minutes upon seconds ago. The drowsy driver took another sip of his energy drink. The hills and valleys rolled out in all directions, but the scenery was nothing but tumbleweeds, vineyards and darkness at this point. Alfred noticed a streetlight that must have gone out. He wondered why. He wondered how. Within minutes he thought up a summary that involved zombie mermaids, Russian boatmen and a singing puffin. Then and there he decided that that the people who make energy drinks use acid in it or something.

Then, the sooper-dooper cool dude in the driver's seat wondered the same thing that the Korean had wanted to ask before he fell asleep. "_Where the fuck are we going?"_

He stopped at a _Deus ex Machina_ rest stop and took out Yong Soo's _Deus Ex Machina_ computer, which the Korean never left home without so it made perfect sense that he had it even though the author didn't bother mentioning it.

He typed into the search bar, _"where the fuck can you get gay married at 16?" _The computer illuminated his face like a UFO landing in a cornfield in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas.

He took another swig of the energy drink. His thoughts went on acid trip again. He thought of British lolitas with Jedward hair.

He left the car into a really unpleasantly humid night, and looked at the conveniently-placed map. The little _YOU ARE HERE _on the sign indicated that Alfred stood pretty close to the border of Arizona.

"_Welp,_ no point in going back to sleep now," he told himself, looking at the green _5:45 _on the radio's display-thingy. He opened Yong Soo's laptop again, going straight to his favorite widely-known popular amateur video hosting site to look up funny cats.

Chapter 6 like 98.999%? I dunno. I think it's done. Hm. I think chapter seven is an interlude. Also this is a lot more cracky than I originally imagined. I don't know how to dramu.


	6. Squirrels

WELCOME To ARIZONA

the grand canyon state

_Super American Brain Penis, Tues. Jul. 19, 2005_

_I am fucking awesome. I have the __girl __guy of my dreams in the passenger seat (who was sleeping pretty cutely last night), the tunes blastin' loud and I am on my way out of here! Well, actually, I am just entering Arizona, but I WILL BE OUT OF HERE SOON. I would tell you what "here" specifies but that would spoil it and I don't want to break the fourth wall. _

_I've been thinking we should Gee-tee-eff-oh pretty quickly, but I was wondering what Arizona had to offer, so I asked Mr. Google. Monsieur Google told me nothing except the stuff I already knew, which was Grand Canyon, Area 51, and John McCain. _

_Not much here._

_Yong Soo is resting his eyes. Man, how tired can dude get? Well, I mean, I drank two cans of Monster so…_

"Oh _namjachinguuuu, Annyeooooooong!"_ Alfred sing-songed, making use of mental tildes.

Yong Soo reached over sleepily, giving the driver a peck on him temple.

"Really, Alimony? Miley Cyrus?"

"Yes, Ying-Yang-Yong. I do so enjoy partying in these United States."

"But, Fred Jones of Scooby Doo fame, if you're listening to Miley, then the Jay-Z song isn't _really _on.

"Past tense, Yong Soo-ey the Pig Call. The Jay-Z song _was _on, and it is not on during the duration of the song."

"Touché!"

They sat in a really amazing silence for a second or two.

"Man…" started Alfred, "That little-less-than-a-week-without-you was total hell. Once we get to where we are going, I never going to leave your side. We'll be together forever. I'll marry you wherever that's legal and we'll make sweet lovin' every night, and in the morning you'll be like 'Hey sweetums honey pie good morning' and I'll be like 'Good morning mushie lumps frooty-tooty cakes' and then we'll realize how stupid that sounds and-"

Pothole.

"We'll call each other by erotic names that aren't much better, like 'oh my cock licking sex slave' and 'baby my sexy hooting ass' and then we'll laugh and laugh at those and then have some waffles and I'll put half a can of whipped cream on it and you'll be all 'oh you silly _babo' _or whatever the fuck it is. Afterwards, you'll grab the whipped cream form the kitchen while we're sitting down to watch some stupid reality television, and be all 'ATTACK!' and then spray me with it. Later, we'll probably have some kinky weird noon sex and-"

Pothole.

"We'll live happily ever after."

Pothole. (Someone should really fix these before the L's start to appear!)

"Alamo, you are one crazy (but amazing) dude."

"Soo-like- a -lawyer, you make me _ejaculate."_

"What?"

"Nothingohlookasign." He pointed toward a sigh that said '_Rest stop: 135 mi.'_

"That's nice, Aleroony."

After nearly an hour of driving across the deserted Arizona highway, Yong Soo spotted a squirrel. Usually, that would be irrelevant, because, you know, it's a _squirrel._ But what truly stood out about this one little rodent was that it led a fucking _army _of cute little squirrels. (Granted, they were much less cute in a stampede.)

"Uh, Al…" The Korean's words shook like the ground probably would if this story were a cartoon (come to think of it, it's already wildly unrealistic). He took a big gulp, looking over to his boyfriend, who was lost in the music.

"'Are we an item?' Girl, quit playin'," Alfred sang, his voice somehow matching the singer's. Yong Soo reached for the radio and shoved the volume button into submission overdramatically, annihilating the music.

Alfred turned to Yong Soo, "C'mon, dude, he's not _that _bad."

"ALFRED THIS IS NOT ABOUT BIEBER. THIS IS ABOUT THE FUCKING STORM OF SQUIRRELS AND RODENT MISCELLANEA COMING RIGHT AT US."

"…well, shit." The Belieber looked forward, laying his eyes on the most monstrous deus ex machina to come out of crack fic since Dumblydore walking in on Enoby and Darco doing it.

He swerved off the road in a flurry of panic, confusion, and Justin.

The squirrels, however, were scattering, so some still came his direction. He tried to miss them, or squash them (Alfred had no qualms about road kill).

Alfred did the one thing every teenage boy would do in his situation:

_Floor it._

The tires spun in the sandy desert, and shot the car forward when they finally reached the two-lane, deserted highway. Meanwhile, Yong Soo fought with a rabid squirrel that had managed to enter the vehicle.

The red racer swerved on the road struggling to keep its balance. Alfred gripped onto the wheel with all of his strength, trying to keep his eyes on the blurry road. He couldn't even tell how fast the car was going, and that information was right in front of him.

Behind him, the squirrels had regrouped and were all on his tail. Yong Soo wondered what kind of squirrels they were, seeing as they could keep up with a car going about 80 miles per hour.

Later that day, with the squirrel army defeated and Arizona just behind the two hooligans, Alfred decided that he really had to go to the bathroom. Alfred found the next rest stop at a convenient two miles.

After they pulled into the parking lot, Alfred left the car in a mad dash for the men's room, while Yong Soo sauntered out to thoroughly inspect the candy machine.

Meanwhile, in the restroom, Alfred stood at a urinal doing what one always does at a urinal. An old man peed into the urinal next to him. His hair was curly and brown and full of life, but his face was worn and weathered and wrinkly. Much to Alfred's chagrin, he began speaking.

"You're so lucky to be young, kid." There was nobody else in the room. The old man was talking to Alfred. While peeing.

"You know, I once let the love of my life slip away from me. That was the stupidest thing I ever did. But I was young and didn't know how important they were."

Alfred was struck with curiosity. "So did you find them again? What happened?"

"Did you see a man with a scary look on his face whose hair looked kind of Legolas anywhere?"

"In the minivan next to where I parked."

The old man said nothing, only smiled widely, and fiddled with his buckle.

_**So yeah, next chapter is going to be an interlude, focusing on Norway/Taiwan. I don't even know why I'm even doing that because it is absurd. And it takes a lot of things for me to call something legitimately absurd. Also, sorry for not updating often. I am going to do what I always do and blame ADHD.**_


	7. Lemonade

July was the month known for being very, very hot. Mei Wang was known for hating that. She lazily walked down the large hill, heading toward the convenience store. There was nothing to better beat the odious heat than a slushie.

It was really, really hot. Sweat was pooling under her brow, the sun beating down on her shoulders. She began to slump over a bit, watching her flip-flopped feet drag themselves toward the sanctuary of coolness.

Another good thing about the convenience store was that it was constantly air-conditioned. She wondered of Bjorn ever got cold.

Mei thought Bjorn was a nice enough man, and though he could be a bit rude to his customers, the store's prices were low, and it was a good place to cool off, so she didn't mind. And besides, Bjorn had never been rude to her, so she couldn't hold anything to large against him.

She glided into the store, letting the coolness wash over her like it was golden, pure ambrosia. She waved hello to Bjorn, who greeted her back with a swipe of his hand and a mumble.

She bought a cool bottle of lemonade and a chocolate bar. She really couldn't care less that lemonade and chocolate never wanted anything to do with one another while in one's mouth, she liked both foods and she was going to eat them.

As Mei put her treats up on the counter, she was pretty sure she saw Bjorn grin. It was out of place because one does not simply walk into Bjorn grinning.

"You know Mei, you're pretty cute."

There were no words for a long time. Nobody moved.

"Wow, creep! You are not getting my money today. Pedophile."

She walked out of the convenience store with one large huff of her breath.

When Mathias walked into the shop later that day to check up on his "bro," he found Bjorn unusually crabbier than he usually was.

He had to wonder why that guy was so mopey sometimes.

**Gah! I am so sorry I haven't updated. This story is officially on Hiatus. And it will be until I finish my Cankraine fic, The Boy Who Never Got Laid. After it's over, I will resume writing this. Once again, I'm very sorry!**


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